Deadly Arrows
by Liniya
Summary: Aragorn is captured by the half wraith, Nirkanta. Many elves are searching for him, but some them never return. A new weapon is being devised... one that will change the lives of Elves forever. M for torture.
1. Captured!

**Deadly Arrows**

**Rating:** R for torture. If you have problems with medieval torture devices, or vague suggestions toward them, I suggest you do not read this.

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim. Most of the characters are not mine, though there are some inserts. Another note: the evil plot-bunny that bit me isn't mine either. That was borrowed (with permission) from Julia.

**Summary:** Aragorn is captured by the half wraith, Nirkanta. Many elves are searching for him, but some them never return. A new weapon is being devised... one that will change the lives of Elves forever.

**A/N:** Maybe the torture is unrealistic (as someone had pointed out). I really do not care. As long as I inflict lots of damage on Estel I'm happy. This story was written for my entertainment… mostly.

(As of 3/11/07) -- I do apologize for the slow posting. Goodness -- It's been what? Easily over a year, if not even more? Well, I've gone through and edited a few things, and added a sentence here or there in these first two chapters, and actually posted a third despite everything that's gone on in real life. Apologies again.

* * *

Silvery moonlight shone on a dark pool of blood. A man laid in the thick substance, his eyes closed. Dark lashes contrasted with his pale face. One could have easily mistaken him for dead, if not for the slow, rhythmic movement of his chest. The tip of a pink tongue stuck out to moisten the man's lips. At every creak and moan of the night the figure flinched, terrified.

His captor had promised to break him; it was succeeding. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, was nearly broken. A sense of neglect also rose in him. As the days progressed, with every spike, the feeling increased. "El…" he moaned, his thoughts on his brothers. Kanta had assured him that she had disposed of the useless elves and no one knew they were missing. At the time, he had glared at her, the words having no effect on him. However, now he was not as sure. As time drew on, and he lost count of how long he had been in her reign, despair crept over him... despair and fear.

Out of seemingly no-where, a voice spoke to him. "Have a nice rest?"

Aragorn felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He knew who it was without even raising his head, for that voice never seemed to haunt him -- he heard it in both his waking hours, and even in sleep he could not find refuge from the cold, sneering tone. "Kanta."

"Glad you remember my name." Nirkanta smirked, waving her hand. A large orc appeared beside her, a look of glee on his malicious, gloating face. "I'm sure you remember Seul."

The ranger made no notion that he even saw the orc. His eyes were fixed on the female's feet; from past experience, he knew that speaking would end up in more pain, and he suffered enough to begin with without adding to it.

The half wraith hissed in pleasure. The young one was learning, finally. She had expected him to give in days ago, but this one was unusually strong for his kind. Perhaps that was why... "You are learning."

"You're wasting your time, Kanta. You will never get any information out of me." Aragorn snarled, his emotions getting the better of him and causing him to speak out. He turned his head to stare at the cloaked figure before him, his movements slowed by his burning back; if he made any sharp movements, his back would spring aflame anew.

Kanta's ebony eyes glittered dangerously under her black hood. "We will see," she hissed, striding closer to him. Bending down, she studied his raw back. Maliciously, she ran a long, cold finger through the mass of cuts and burns. Aragorn stiffened, biting his lip.

"Seul!" She snapped.

"Yes mistress?" The orc shuffled over, a bit apprehensive. Though he may be her second in command, he knew that his life was at her mercy; with a word, all that he knew could be taken away.

"Bring me my tools."

He grunted, and started for the door. "Gripnak! The box." His orders were followed immediately; a few seconds later, another orc appeared at the door, a rattling box in his hand. Seul took the box and returned to his mistress.

"Place him on the table." Kanta commanded after the box had been handed to her. An evil grin appeared on her shadowed face as she stroked the container.

More orcs shuffled in lifted the human, who was using all of his energy not to whimper in pain. After the orcs had settled the ranger on a stone table, the mistress approached. "You will obey me," she noted, her voice oozing with conviction.

Aragorn gave the cloaked figure a hard look. "Never. I will not fall under your command; I will never serve you!"

"We will see," she said again, opening the box. She produced a long, cruel metal spike. "I trust you remember this." Kanta highly doubted that the ranger could forget; her toy inflicted a lot of pain. Without waiting for a reply, she thrust a spike into his healing back, and pulled it back out. Six times she reopened his skin. From a smaller container inside the first, she pulled out a handful of white crystals, which she sprinkled over the freshly opened wounds. At this, Aragorn couldn't help but moan. The crystals stung, but he knew what was next, and that part hurt even more than having his back punctured and salted. With a small laugh, Kanta inserted a spike in every hole she had created.

Gripnak approached, a torch in his hand. Kanta snatched it and held it inches away from the nails. The iron heated quickly, and the heat traveled down the nail and into his flesh. She repeated the process with the rest of the spikes, watching in amusement as Aragorn started to wither in pain. The ranger had been firmly tied down; the ropes did not allow him to curl up, as he so longed to do.

When she finally got bored of watching him shrivel each time she lighted the nails, she motioned for her minions to approach. "Keep him in this state." Kanta instructed, handing the torch to Seul. "I have matters to attend to.'

"Yes, mistress." He nodded. As their mistress moved away, the orcs moved in, ready to have their fun.

"Seul?"

He glanced back at where his mistress was standing by the doorway.

"Keep him alive." With that, she departed, closing the door behind her.


	2. A Break

**Deadly Arrows**

**Rating:** R for torture. If you have problems with medieval torture devices, or vague suggestions toward them, I suggest you do not read this.

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim. Most of the characters are not mine, though there are some inserts. Another note: the evil plot-bunny that bit me isn't mine either. That was borrowed (with permission) from Julia.

**Summary:** Aragorn is captured by the half wraith, Nirkanta. Many elves are searching for him, but some them never return. A new weapon is being devised... one that will change the lives of Elves forever.

**A/N:** Maybe the torture is unrealistic (as someone had pointed out). I really do not care. As long as I inflict lots of damage on Estel I'm happy. This story was written for my entertainment… mostly.

(As of 3/11/07) -- I do apologize for the slow posting. Goodness -- It's been what? Easily over a year, if not even more? Well, I've gone through and edited a few things, and added a sentence here or there in these first two chapters, and actually posted a third despite everything that's gone on in real life. Apologies again.

* * *

Aragorn was unconscious by the time Kanta returned. "We have work to do." She growled at the orcs, sweeping in. A large warg followed her, saliva dripping from its mouth. She jerked the carefully placed spikes out of the ranger's back and tossed them carelessly into the box. "Grishnmac, wash those. We can't have the human dying too quickly, especially from infection. Lower him." 

The orcs quickly obeyed, laying the human on the ground.

"Do your job, Skald." The half wraith hissed to her pet. "Do not hurt him."

The warg stepped forward, sniffing. A long tongue, coated with slobber, struck out. He licked up the blood and wounds, leaving a thick coat of sticky saliva on the ranger's back. Unknown to humans, warg saliva had healing powers: it sped up the clotting of the blood. The orcs had, in their alliance with the intelligent wolves, had discovered this quality and put it to their wicked uses.

"Lucky he's out." Seul grunted. "Wimp would have screamed his head off, had he the energy."

"Doesn't know how to accept what's good for him." Kanta muttered, watching Skald carefully. "Skald is to come in here twice a day with his 'medicine'. In a few more days, he will be ready again. In the meantime, Acnios can provide food for him." She knew that the orc would do no such thing; he would eat the food in front of the famished human and gloat.

"He will starve if Acnios feeds him."

"You -will- make sure that the human receives enough to keep him living." She glared, disapproving of her captain's questioning.

"Apologies mistress. I will take care of it." He bowed his head.

Once the bleeding stopped, Skald wobbled back to his master and sat down, waiting patiently.

"Carr, feed him." The orc in question pointed to the door, and Skald started off, with him trailing behind, careful not to get too close to the animal.

"Amsio, start preparing the pit and oiling the manacles, the smallest ones," she commanded, observing the human on the floor with cold eyes. "Hope he has good aim or you will be cleaning up after him." The pit was just that; a pit. Manacles hung from the ceiling over it; the victim was usually hung from them, their whole weight supported on either their wrists, ankles, or, if Kanta felt like it, their fingers, for a time. With the pit, flogging posts were unnecessary, not to mention that it was easier to clean.

"Yes, mistress." A big orc bowed then left the room, leaving Kanta and her captain alone in the room.

A few more days… Kanta eyed the human. Soon, she will have the information she wanted, and maybe a few elves to try her newest toy on. The time was drawing nearer, and she had a job to accomplish for her Lord.

"Mistress?" An orc stuck his head through the door. He seemed hesitant, and his eyes shone with fear.

"Speak, Llikdaor," she narrowed her eyes. He had better have a good reason for disrupting her: despite being a subordinate of Uilz, he should have known better. Kanta made a mental note to tell Uilz to come himself, instead of hiding out in their lookout forts and sending his pawns to report in.

"His would-be-rescuers are on the false trail now. Ikegsn is reporting their progress to me. There are five on his tail; four males and one female."

"Very well. You have set the trap properly, have you not?" She inquired, staring at the orc with cold eyes.

"Yes mistress. Down to the very last detail. Seul can confirm that; he watched us while we worked." Llikdaor nodded vigorously. His hands gave a twitch that betrayed his nervousness – Kanta was known to brutally kill those who displeased her. 'After all', another orc had told him, 'we orcs are expendable… she could always find better ones.'

"Good. Make sure they don't stray from the path, as the elves are bound to do. Your kinds destructiveness might ruin it all, but you -will- catch them and bring them to me."

"As you wish," he scurried off.

"Watch that one closely. He is uncertain of exactly what his orders are, no matter how clearly I say them," Kanta told Seul, her eyes fixed where Llikdaor had been.

"He is still young."

"Not that young in the reckoning of the Orcs. Your race is dying, quickly, due to the accursed elves and humans. There are not many that have survived to your age."

"Yes, we have fallen from our places of power, ever since He was disembodied." Seul recalled the sayings of his maker.

"He will return, and soon." She murmured. Indeed, her dark heart had sensed a growing evil; the reappearance of her father had enforced the feeling. Soon, all will be set right again... "We will rise again to our old glory; nothing can stop us."

--

A few days ago...

"Hey, I can do it if you guys would just let me!" An indignant voice rang out through the forest.

"Sure you can, Estel... like the time when you went and managed to get trampled by the very prey you were hunting?"

Soft elven laughter followed the statement, causing the human to blush. "That was an accident, El! How was I to know that--"

"Excuses, excuses. Estel, everyone knows you're a horrible shot... especially having been taught by Noldor elves," A teasing voice cut him off. His words elicited some resentful cries from the other elves.

It was simply one of those fine days when no one could stand staying inside longer than they must. Instead of allowing the young ones sit around complaining of boredom, or creating mischief in his house, Elrond had assigned them to go restock the cellar; this idea was taken up quickly by the elves, and within half an hour, they had bugged the cook for lunch, saddled up their mounts, and set off merrily. The six of them were riding toward one of the better hunting grounds, about three hours ride away from Rivendell, and to pass the time, they chose to play their favorite game of teasing the human and each other.

"I'd be careful if I were you, -dear- prince," Elladan growled playfully, nudging his mount closer to Legolas'. "You might just find yourself on the wrong end of a few arrows..."

"As if you could hit him. He's right, you know; Noldor elves simply can't shoot." Lingalad said innocently. He was riding beside his brother, and was glad that Legolas was between him and Elladan.

"Oh, so we can't?" Elrohir queried, turning his head to the right to grin wickedly at his friend. "Then pray tell why it was that I beat you in the last archery match we held?"

"Actually, El, Elladan won that one." Estel pointed out to his brother. He was glad that the subject of their teasing had moved on, and now felt more inclined to return the favor.

"Close enough. My point is, we still managed to beat them, and now they say we can't shoot."

Legolas glared over at his brother. "It's not my fault that Lin's arrow caught on a draft and flew ten feet too far! If it wasn't for that, we'd have beat you."

"Children! Stop squabbling back there!" Elwen, their friend and the eldest of all of them, called back from a few feet in front of them. "Lin, you would have beat Elrohir had you actually thought about shooting instead of winning."

"I did think about shooting!" Lin gave his horse a prod, and Lómil increased his pace to catch up with Elwen. "Though," he added quietly, now that he was beside his friend, "I was thinking more about how to shoot Arwen, who had been striding up the hill at the time."

"Lin!" Elwen gave him a scolding smack upside the head, though she couldn't keep the laughter from her voice. "That--"

"Just don't tell the others. Estel would have my hide if he knew..." He winked. The two of them had been hunting partners for centuries, and they shared a common dislike of Elrond's only daughter, Arwen.

"Knew what?" Elladan's voice floated up to them. The four of them, Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas, and Estel had been arguing amongst themselves about who was a better archer up until that point.

"Oops," Lin ducked his head. "Nothing, El." He responded innocently.

"I'll beat it out of you if you won't tell me!"

"All right... if you can catch me!"

"Is that a challenge?" Elladan questioned. "You think Rochel here can't surpass Lómil?"

"Exactly that," He lowered his voice, "Come on, Lómil, lets show El what we're made of." Lómil whinnied, then, having been given permission to race, sped off, leaving a startled Elladan behind.

"Not fair!" The Noldor elf cursed, urging Rochel to her full speed.

The others moved off to the side to let him pass. Laughing, they followed the two at their own leisurely pace, making bets on who would win.


	3. Light Banter

**Deadly Arrows**

**Rating:** R for torture. If you have problems with medieval torture devices, or vague suggestions toward them, I suggest you do not read this.

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim. Most of the characters are not mine, though there are some inserts. Another note: the evil plot-bunnythat bit me isn't mine either. That was borrowed (with permission) from Julia.

**Summary:** Aragorn is captured by the half wraith, Nirkanta. Many elves are searching for him, but some them never return. A new weapon is being devised... one that will change the lives of Elves forever.

**A/N:** Maybe the torture is unrealistic (as someone had pointed out). I really do not care. As long as I inflict lots of damage on Estel I'm happy. This story was written for my entertainment… mostly.

* * *

_(A few days ago...)_

"Hey, I can do it if you guys would just let me!" An indignant voice rang out through the forest.

"Sure you can, Estel... like the time when you went and managed to get trampled by the very prey you were hunting?"

Soft elven laughter followed the statement, causing the human to blush. "That was an accident, El! How was I to know that--"

"Excuses, excuses. Estel, everyone knows you're a horrible shot... especially having been taught by Noldor elves," A teasing voice cut him off. His words elicited some resentful cries from the other elves.

It was simply one of those fine days when no one could stand staying inside longer than they must. Instead of allowing the young ones sit around complaining of boredom, or creating mischief in his house, Elrond had assigned them to go restock the cellar; this idea was taken up quickly by the elves, and within half an hour, they had bugged the cook for lunch, saddled up their mounts, and set off merrily. The six of them were riding toward one of the better hunting grounds, about three hours ride away from Rivendell, and to pass the time, they chose to play their favorite game of teasing the human and each other.

"I'd be careful if I were you, -dear- prince," Elladan growled playfully, nudging his mount closer to Legolas'. "You might just find yourself on the wrong end of a few arrows..."

"As if you could hit him. He's right, you know; Noldor elves simply can't shoot." Lingalad said innocently. He was riding beside his brother, and was glad that Legolas was between him and Elladan.

"Oh, so we can't?" Elrohir queried, turning his head to the right to grin wickedly at his friend. "Then pray tell why it was that I beat you in the last archery match we held?"

"Actually, El, Elladan won that one." Estel pointed out to his brother. He was glad that the subject of their teasing had moved on, and now felt more inclined to return the favor.

"Close enough. My point is, we still managed to beat them, and now they say we can't shoot."

Legolas glared over at his brother. "It's not my fault that Lin's arrow caught on a draft and flew ten feet too far! If it wasn't for that, we'd have beat you."

"Children! Stop squabbling back there!" Elwen, their friend and the eldest of all of them, called back from a few feet in front of them. "Lin, you would have beat Elrohir had you actually thought about shooting instead of winning."

"I did think about shooting!" Lin gave his horse a prod, and Lómil increased his pace to catch up with Elwen. "Though," he added quietly, now that he was beside his friend, "I was thinking more about how to shoot Arwen, who had been striding up the hill at the time."

"Lin!" Elwen gave him a scolding smack upside the head, though she couldn't keep the laughter from her voice. "That--"

"Just don't tell the others. Estel would have my hide if he knew..." He winked. The two of them had been hunting partners for centuries, and they shared a common dislike of Elrond's only daughter, Arwen.

"Knew what?" Elladan's voice floated up to them. The four of them, Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas, and Estel had been arguing amongst themselves about who was a better archer up until that point.

"Oops," Lin ducked his head. "Nothing, El." He responded innocently.

"I'll beat it out of you if you won't tell me!"

"All right... if you can catch me!"

"Is that a challenge?" Elladan questioned. "You think Rochel here can't surpass Lómil?"

"Exactly that," He lowered his voice, "Come on, Lómil, lets show El what we're made of." Lómil whinnied, then, having been given permission to race, sped off, leaving a startled Elladan behind.

"Not fair!" The Noldor elf cursed, urging Rochel to her full speed.

The others moved off to the side to let him pass. Laughing, they followed the two at their own leisurely pace, making bets on who would win.

* * *

**A/N:** So, after forever, I managed to get another chapter up. It's a lighthearted reprieve from my previous chapters, just to catch everyone up to where chapter one starts. I plan on having another one between here and chapter one, then we'll go back to see how Aragorn's faring... P

I do apologize for this chapter taking so freakin' long. Real life and simply the lack of a muse are my excuses...


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